


revelation/revolution

by jupiterrism



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read We Die Like Illiterates, completely self-indulgent, i didnt plan on writing this but here we go, i dunno you guess, is this gen, is this shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterrism/pseuds/jupiterrism
Summary: Their new vigilante is not as invincible as he appears to be.
Relationships: Sancaka & Ridwan Bahri
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	revelation/revolution

It's sometimes past midnight when Ridwan hears a click outside of his bedroom. Another noise and it seems like a sharply drawn breath, muffled. Ridwan reaches from under his pillow, his fingers meeting the cold grip of his revolver, and slowly, he creeps to the door, nudging it ajar and holds the gun in front of him.

There is a dark shape in the living room, a hunched figure leaning against the wall, and Ridwan steps out of the shadows without a noise, gun aimed at the stranger.

His finger hovers on the trigger as he makes the shape of a helmet in the dark. But Ridwan narrows his eyes, forefinger touching the trigger. "Angkat tangan, jangan bergerak."

The stranger raises their hand, movement sluggish as they push themselves off the wall. "Pak, ini saya."

Ridwan feels his eyes grow wide at the voice — _that voice_ , heavy and ringing from inside the helmet — and without a doubt, Ridwan lowers his gun and goes to turn the lamp on. As expected, there stands Jakarta's newest vigilante in all his armored glory, courtesy of him and the citizens. 

He looks well enough, to Ridwan's eyes, but he's hunched, one hand covering his stomach. Upon closer inspection, his costume is stained dark with something that raises alarms.

"Kamu berdarah?" Without waiting for a response, Ridwan makes his way to the other man. The other man jerks imperceptibly, trying to get away, but Ridwan already has hands on the other's arm, ushering him to his couch.

Ridwan could hear the muffled hiss and sharp intake of breath every time he moves, and when he sits down, it's with caution. Once he's sure the other man won't run away, Ridwan rushes back to his bedroom to grab a First Aid kit.

The other man is already listing to a side when Ridwan returns, hand still clutching his side. His breathing is labored, echoing inside his helmet, and it makes his heart plummets down his stomach in pity.

"Lepas dulu baju kamu, biar saya bisa lihat lukanya."

It's silent for a moment, before the man slowly plucks his costume off, movements stiff, and Ridwan reaches out to help him. Body armor and undershirt off, and Ridwan could see the gaping wound. _Two_ gaping wounds. A hiss escapes him before he could help it because that must be painful like _hell_.

The other man hasn't taken his helmet off, Ridwan realizes, but it's fine, he doesn't need to see his face anyway. Pushing the other man to lay down on his couch, Ridwan picks a tweezer from the box — it's all he has and he hopes the bullet isn't lodged far too deep inside his abdomen.

"Kenapa bisa begini?" As if the body is already starting to push the bullet out of his abdomen. Ridwan blinks, in no time, one bullet is out, and he covers the gaping wound with a gauze pad, soaking the pad with disinfectant.

The other man hisses a little, pressing one hand over the pad, but he doesn't move. "Entahlah. Pelurunya… berbeda."

The second bullet is out in a blink of an eye, drawing a pained groan from the man in front of him, and Ridwan sits back on the floor, eyes landing on a helmeted head.

"Saya biasanya sembuhnya cepat," the other man supplies quietly, breathing a little easier, "saya cuma butuh pelurunya keluar biar saya bisa menyembuhkan diri saya sendiri."

"Kenapa ngga pergi ke teman kamu aja?" The head of security of a newspaper factory, a woman, and a child. Pengkor always goes for people close to them, so if he went for them, that means those three are the closest thing the man has as a family.

To his surprise, the man shakes his head. "Mereka lagi ngga di sini," is all he offers and Ridwan could hear the underlying exhaustion in his voice.

Ridwan slowly rises to his feet—his knees aren't what they used to be—First Aid kit tucked under his arm. "Tidur di sini. Lepas helmnya juga. Saya udah tau kamu siapa, jadi ngga perlu tutupin identitas kamu kalau kamu sedang bersama saya."

Ridwan doesn't know who's under the helmet, frankly speaking. He has guesses, narrowed down to only several wild assumptions, but none of them has a base. He needs to sterilize the tweeze first thing in the morning and as he steps out of his room, he realizes that there is dried blood staining his hand. In his way out, he picks up a shirt—his old shirt that might fit the other man—and a blanket.

The man has curled up into a ball in the couch, helmet still on, and Ridwan sighs quietly when he approaches him. His breathing his steady, quiet, but he jerks awake as Ridwan spreads the blanket over him.

"Pakai baju dulu, nanti masuk angin." The man actually snorts at that, accepting the proffered shirt, and there's a moment of hesitation. His hand is hovering on his helmet, reluctance clear in his every move.

"Saya udah bilang, saya udah tau kamu siapa." It's a hard thing to keep the exasperation out of his voice but Ridwan couldn't fault him. Ridwan works for the government and not many would trust people like him, especially a vigilante. With another sigh, he heads to the kitchen to wash his hands and proceeds to grab a bottle of painkillers and a glass of cold water. 

When he gets back to the living room, the helmet has disappeared, as well as the man. Ridwan blinks, taking in the surroundings—his blanket is neatly folded, but the costumes are gone—and the window is slightly ajar. _Masa iya dia—ah, ngga mungkin_ , Ridwan peeks out of the window, frowning to himself. He has a sinking feeling that this won't be the last time he will encounter their vigilante.

* * *

"Maaf saya pergi tanpa pamit, Pak."

It's only been a handful of uneventful days when the voice jerks Ridwan out of his thoughts, lifting his head from the reports he's currently reading.

Ridwan blinks at the figure in front of him, quiet for a moment. "Saya lupa tutup jendela, ya?"

The other man shrugs, but Ridwan could make the sheepish undertone in his movement. He steps closer to the touch and in his hand, there is a bundle of black plastic bag.

"Kaos bapak," he starts, his voice hesitant, and Ridwan takes it with a smile.

"Padahal saya ngga berharap kaos ini kembali," Ridwan says with a small chuckle, "terima kasih, udah repot-repot mengantarkan ini ke rumah saya."

When the other man doesn't immediately go away, Ridwan tilts his head to a side, curiosity and warry lacing into one. "Kamu ngga kenapa-kenapa 'kan? Masih utuh?"

A deep, jagged laugh comes from the other man, and Ridwan realizes that this is the first time he ever heard him laugh. "Masih utuh, Pak, tenang aja. Masih lengkap 'kan, kaki dan tangan saya?"

Ridwan rolls his eyes in response, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nama kamu siapa? Saya ngga tau harus panggil kamu siapa."

"Gundala," the man— _Gundala_ —says without hesitation, though he pauses after that. "Panggil saya Gundala."

"Kamu mau keluar lewat jendela?" His eyes follow Gundala as he makes to step out of the window. The man pauses, a masked face staring at him, before he shrugs a shoulder and proceeds to fling himself out of his building.

Ridwan never leaves the window to his place locked after that.

* * *

Super powered vigilantes are, Ridwan decides, very dramatic.

There is a knock on his door, so quiet that Ridwan almost misses it, and when he tugs the door open, he's got himself an armful of unconscious Gundala.

Ridwan staggers under the weight. The other man is heavier than he looks and—

"Astaga."

There are knives, multiple, sticking out from his back and sinking into the skin, past the costume. With a grunt, Ridwan tugs the man inside and quickly lays him down on the couch, stomach down. Gundala lets out a low groan and shifts a little, as if making to roll to his back, but Ridwan's hand on his shoulder forces him to lie still.

"Jangan gerak-gerak," Ridwan warns him, already rushing for his First Aid kit in his room. He only has rudimentary skills in tending wounds, it is a question that's been nagging him: why does Gundala come to him?

The knives are not too deep, though the wounds don't close up immediately, super healing ability asides. With a grunt, Ridwan takes the upper armor off—there are several more holes scattered around, it needs a maintenance—and quickly dabs the wounds with cotton balls soaked with disinfectant.

There is a trace of dried blood on his neck and along his back. Ridwan frowns a little at that—the helmet has a crack running from the base and up, not a hairline crack but as if something hit Gundala _really hard_. The other man is breathing heavily, hands clenching down on nothing, and Ridwan heaves out a sigh.

"Saya lepas helm kamu, ya." The other man doesn't give any response rather than a faint groan, so Ridwan carefully tugs the helmet off. It needs some fixing, his finger traces along the fine fissure along it before Ridwan sets the helmet aside.

Underneath the helmet lies a dark haired head, dried blood visible on the scalp, and with another sigh, Ridwan gently dabs the blood stained skin with the cotton ball, pressing gently to wipe the red from the skin. It draws a hiss from the other man, but otherwise, he stays still.

Ridwan has a spare blanket stored under the coffee table next to the couch. His hunch is correct, the vigilante will drop by unannounced and wounded. Draping the thin blanket over a bare back, Ridwan makes to stand on his feet.

"Jangan kemana-mana, luka kamu belum kering," Ridwan warns, already heading to the kitchen to retrieve a painkiller and a glass of water. To his surprise, the man is still there when he returns, lying unmoving on the couch. He has his face turned away from Ridwan as he sets the glass as well as the medication on the coffee table.

Ridwan settles on the floor, cross-legged and leaning back against the couch. "Gundala?"

The other man hums in response, the noise rough in his throat. Ridwan sneaks a glance at him, feeling sympathy wells in his chest. This man, selfless and so impossibly brave—the city owes him everything and for only one person to step up to maintain _peace_ , however superficial that is, is something Ridwan could never wrap his head around.

"Kenapa kamu datang ke saya?" 

Ridwan feels Gundala shifts behind him, only slightly, and he hears a soft exhale of breath. A beat, a moment of thoughtful pause—silence weighing down between them.

"Karena bapak percaya saya." His voice is deep, low—and he takes one raspy breath before coughing. Ridwan is on his feet again to offer him the glass and when the man turns his head to face him, Ridwan is watching him closely.

Ridwan doesn't know him, never sees him anywhere, but he knows that the man is braver than the whole parliament line-up. Lips pursed around a straw and Gundala takes small sips of water, throat working slowly. Thick eyebrows drawn into a frown as he seems to ponder on something.

"Dan teman-teman saya sedang tidak berada di sini," comes another answer, more quietly. Ridwan raises an eyebrow at that.

"Mereka di mana?"

"Pergi. Mencari orang-orang seperti saya." 

Ridwan blinks at the admission. "Seperti kamu?"

Gundala nods, peering up at him. "Punya… kekuatan. Dan peduli sama rakyat."

The words stings. Ridwan doesn't know if he meant it as a jab but Gundala must have caught something in his face because he adds, "Saya tahu bapak juga peduli, tapi beda dengan cara saya."

That's the longest Ridwan has heard from the man and while he's still staring in stunned silence, Gundala slowly pushes himself up and slings his feet to the floor.

"Mau ke mana?" Gundala only offers him a sharp look as he gingerly gets to his feet, swaying a little.

"Kerja. Udah jam segini." Ridwan is about to point out that it's nearly midnight but—he stops. The other man is stiff, movements deliberate, but it doesn't deter him from picking his tattered clothes and helmet.

Ridwan stops him with a hand on his shoulder, disapproving frown on his face. "Kamu minum obat dulu, bawa sekalian kalau perlu. Saya ambilkan kamu baju. Di luar dingin."

Gundala is still waiting for him when Ridwan emerges with a set of clothes—a shirt and a blood-free slacks. "Punya anak saya," he says, handing Gundala the clothes, "badan mereka seukuran kamu."

As the other man puts the clothes on, Ridwan deftly takes his raggedy outfit from his hands, examining it with narrowed eyes. "Nanti saya kirimkan _suit_ baru, yang lebih _advanced_." 

"Mau saya antar?" 

"Ngga usah, saya bisa sendiri." His voice is curt and despite the hiss he lets out every now and then, the man is actually able to make it to the door. Before he gets out of the door, Gundala pauses to turn around. His face is all sharp planes, rough under the dim light of the hallway, but there is a faint smile on his lips.

"Nama saya Sancaka," Gundala— _Sancaka_ —offers, head tilted to a side.

"Kaya nama kereta," Ridwan blurts out, drawing a small laugh from the other man.

"Keretanya yang niru saya, Pak." Another step out of the door, still with a smile. "Terima kasih, Pak Ridwan."

The door shuts close with a thud, leaving Ridwan alone in the living room with the smell of blood thick in the air and cluttered knives on the couch.

He sends Sancaka a key to his place along with the upgraded costume.

**Author's Note:**

> after ridwan gives sancaka his key, he finds patriots gradually filing up his place. at first it's merpati. then godam. sri asih pops by sometimes. virgo and tira drag aquanus along. sembrani only appears much, much later.


End file.
